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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22709878">A Million (Mochi) Miles Away</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xygenscenic/pseuds/Xygenscenic'>Xygenscenic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Slime Rancher (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Awkward Flirting, F/F, First Person, heiress and rancher, mochi being bad at people, princess and pauper maybe?, that's got to be a category</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 13:48:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,022</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22709878</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xygenscenic/pseuds/Xygenscenic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mochi is bad at people. Fortunately, Beatrix is a patient human being.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beatrix LeBeau/Mochi Miles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Million (Mochi) Miles Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was one of my many Nano short stories (since I cannot concentrate enough to make one BIG fool of myself--I make many little ones). It's just kind of cute and goofy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When the comm unit in my little ranch home chirruped, I had only just opened my eyes, the sun’s first rays peeking up over the horizon; even <em>it</em> had yet to fully awaken. Today was my “sleep-in” day. I had dubbed it Saturday, because time on the Far Far Range didn’t move the same as it had on earth. That wasn’t surprising, of course, but it still jarred me, even after all these long months (were they really months?). I disentangled myself from my sheets and shoved misplaced hair out of my face; it was laying in tangles and would need a thorough brushing to fix. Fortunately, I lived in the middle of nowhere with nothing but slimes and chickens for company. They didn’t much care how I looked, so rather than fussing, I stuffed all my hair into what someone, somewhere might have called a bun and answered the comm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup?” My eyes were blearily half-open and I knew I looked like a slob, but that’s what they got for calling me on my sleep in day—my Saturday. The comms were video or audio; I had mine set to video most of the time because I liked seeing the person on the other end… even bOB, who baffled me endlessly, but who also made good on his payments, so I never asked questions. The instant the comm video stirred, I regretted not spending a little more time on my face. It was Mochi Miles, the multibillionaire daughter of another multibillionaire whom I was just about certain sent her out to the most remote region of the galaxy to get her out of his hair. That wasn’t a nice thought, but given her abrasive mannerisms, I could hardly have blamed her father—yet another unkind thought. Still… one had to wonder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beatrix,” she said, “did I wake you? Well—you should know better than to sleep in on the Far Far Range; there is way to much money to be earned and too many discoveries to be made to have bed-head.” Her tone was mocking, sharp, and nothing out of the ordinary. I was hardly dead-set on impressing her, but something about her jeering abrasiveness rubbed me raw and made me want to show her up in as many ways as possible. To those not in the know, she made her fortune with her patented quicksilver slime collection attachment for standard Vac-Packs and her family owned the largest quicksilver slime preserves in existence (so far, they <em>only</em> ones). I had been to a couple of them, mostly doing favors for Mochi who, despite her sharp nature, paid very generously for good work, and could not help being impressed with it. Still, how badass could she be if she had simply inherited it all? I guess that wasn’t nice either. Being awoken ahead of schedule made me ornery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was one of those people who had to let you know she was “HBIC”, which was old earth slang for “head bitch in charge”. I wasn’t certain if the Far Far Range had slang, or even a set language. Slimes were not terribly rousing conversationalists. Mostly, they cooed, growled, giggled, and sometimes sang. If they had slang, it was beyond me. Anyhow, Mochi was once again displaying her superiority with her perfectly coiffed hair, her immaculately plucked eyebrows, her flawlessly applied makeup, and what I could only assume was the galaxy’s latest fashion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mochi,” I responded. Fortunately, we passed the “miss Miles” phase of our relationship months ago, when Mochi herself had bestowed the mantle of friendship upon my unworthy shoulders. So… yeah, I guess I was friends with Mochi Miles. I did not feel much warmth toward her—maybe a little pity, and certainly irritation. Neither of those things, pity <em>or</em> irritation were symptoms of friendship, I thought, unless friendship was also done differently out here. From what I gathered, however, with people like Ogden, Vik Humphries, and Thora, it was not and Mochi was an outlier even here. Maybe she sensed this too and that was why she had extended a proverbial olive branch. We had never been at odds, per se, but with her friendship came the unspoken promise (or maybe my own silly hope) that she would be kinder. I had not seen a whole lot of that. She had moments, here and there, but mostly it was business as usual. “It’s Saturday, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not! You keeping earth days and weeks is totally crazy! How am I supposed to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mochi,” I cut her off, “remember, I haven’t been out here as long as you, okay? Keeping those days, even on the weird Far Far Range cycles, keeps me… I dunno, sane, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” she said, her eyes darting off to one side. “S… s… I forgot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t an apology proper, but I would take it. She was not warm, not yet, but she was… sort of improving. I understood that she had quite a bit of stress regarding her father (and I’m sure he had plenty regarding her), and she certainly felt the need to prove herself to him, but that did not mean I had to be subjected to poor treatment. Her issues were hers, not mine. Drawing lines between myself and others had always been my greatest weakness. Only coming all the way out her, to the Far Far Range, had allowed me to start learning how, precisely to do that. I was not a cold person, but I was a person who needed her space. It had taken years to learn that about myself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what did you need?” I assumed she had something for me to do at her quicksilver slime “mines”—they were quick buggers and hard to drive out of their caves and catch, but a large enough electrical charge did the trick and that was precisely how Mochi had designed the place. That part, at least, was brilliant. She may have inherited the mines from her father, but the enhancements she had made to them were all her own. I guess it wasn’t totally fair to say she had been handed everything, just a whole lot more than most folks. That did not make her a bad guy. I had long ago decided to give her a chance, after a long talk with Thora, who knew much more about the situation than I had, at the time. She had taken a chance on me, sharing that and I was grateful for the trust. I had determined to allow my <em>new</em> perspective to color my opinion on Mochi, rather than her initial, prickly first impression. It wasn't easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I’m glad you asked,” she said, leading in like a saleswoman with an amazing pitch. Of course I was going to ask. She had awoken me out of a sound sleep and pleasant dreams. I deserved to know why. “Next week, my father is hosting a gala on an orbital platform above the quicksilver mines; he specifically requested my venue—he must want to show off my achievements to his investors!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you need me to… what, help you clean it?” Maybe I jumped the gun a little bit, but I really had no idea what she could have needed me for, in this context especially.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no!” I could see the blush even through the semi-fuzzy vid screen. “I… well I needed a date and I wanted to ask if you were free.” Her face went from red to white as the words spilled out in an almost uncontrolled torrent. Her eyes widened and I could just about imagine the sheen of sweat as she realized what she had just said, despite being the one who'd SAID it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I considered her statement for a long moment, deciding whether I should just answer and have done with it, or let her squirm a little longer. I knew I should be kind to her, polite, but she had put me through the wringer during my first few months on the Far Far Range and, though it had all turned out fine, I was still just a little sore about it. I could feign busyness, but I knew Thora would come and check on my slimes for one night. I could say I had plans, but what plans did a girl with four friends within about a gazillion light-years actually have? Besides, Mochi <em>was</em> cute; I would have been a fool not to see that. Besides, it would be a good opportunity to meet some of the rich muckety mucks her father rubbed elbows with daily and see what the wealth of other worlds was like. It was one night and even then, probably only a few hours. It wasn’t as if she was asking me to marry her. Anyway, it had been a while since I had been on a date.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, Mochi, I’ll do it. What time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It appeared to me that Mochi Miles had not anticipated my agreement to her solicitation, that she had anticipated having to convince me. In fact, I thought for sure she had note cards, stashed somewhere behind the transmitter camera on her comm unit. I could have sworn I saw her digging for them in the small span of time between her initial question and my answer. The thought brought a lazy but mischievous grin to my bleary visage... or I thought it probably did. Without coffee, there was no telling <em>how</em> my face looked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mochi?” I repeated this gently, with an upward inflection as if to ask “are you all right”, but without saying the actual words. Something told me she would not respond to those the way most folks might. It was a rocky journey, being her acquaintance (subordinate) and then reluctant friend. The reluctance, ironically, was from </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> end. While she was abrasive and somewhat rude, driving me into irritation much more quickly than anyone else I had ever met, I found nothing about her to be <em>totally</em> abhorrent and, given the extreme lack of sentient beings out here, would have been very happy to be her friend either way. Mochi was the one who seemed to be having difficulty processing this whole “friendship” idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe it was something else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gathered herself with remarkable speed. Maybe that was part of her upbringing too, poise in all things. I had never met her father, but I assumed he was an iron-handed parent, which would explain more than a few things about Mochi herself. That might have been more than a little judgmental on my part, but it definitely would have clarified a bit about her mannerisms. Thor had told me plenty about Mochi's hang-ups, but very little about her father as a person. I suspected Thora West knew more than she told me, but given that <em>none</em> of it was my business, I'd been grateful for what she offered. I had just begun the process of wading into the quagmire that was the mind of Mochi Miles, after all; I needed all the help I could get and she wasn’t likely to be throwing me any life rafts. This, like that, was another opportunity, and a much better one. Why I <em>wanted</em> to get to know her better was still a bit beyond me, but I assumed that if I agreed to it, that, too, would make itself apparent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The gala begins at seven, which means I will make my grand entrance at eight,” she informed me. I cleared my throat and I could have sworn I saw her blush again. I was two for two today. “That is, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> will. Wear something nice. Later, tater.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hung up without another word and I was left wondering where in blue blazes I’d get a proper gala gown with only a week to go. Mochi was a whirlwind, that was for certain and I wasn’t entirely sure why I had agreed to this, why I was putting forth the extra effort. It just seemed like the right thing to do and maybe just a little bit fun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s what it was. Fun.</span>
</p>
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